THEY SET OFF AGAIN, traveling seventeen more miles until they reached a small town with one main street and the usual stores, a gas station, two bars, and low, one-story dwellings. Richard finally realized there was no way they could reach the lake in daylight and decided they should spend the night there. The wind and cold had worsened, and he needed to get warm: his teeth had been chattering so much his jaw hurt. He was worried about spending the night in a hotel because he did not want to attract attention, but it would be worse to continue in darkness and get lost. His cell phone now had reception, so he was able to tell Lucia about the change of plan. There was not much chance they would find a decent lodging, but they came upon a motel, which had the advantage that the rooms gave directly onto the parking lot, so they would not be noticed. At the reception desk, which smelled strongly of creosote, Richard was informed that the motel was being refurbished and that there was only one room available. He paid $49.90 in cash and then went to call the two women.
“It’s all there is. We’re going to have to share a room,” he told them.
“At last you’re going to sleep with me, Richard!” exclaimed Lucia.
“Mmm . . . I’m worried about leaving Kathryn in the car,” he said, quickly changing subjects.
“You want to sleep with her?”
The room smelled the same as the reception area and had the makeshift aspect of a poor stage set. The ceiling was low, the furniture rickety; everything was covered in a depressing veneer of cheapness. There were two beds, an ancient TV set, a bathroom with indelible stains, and a permanent trickle from the toilet, but there was also an electric kettle, a hot shower, and good heating. In fact, the room was stifling, and within a few minutes Richard was no longer cold, and had to remove the layers of heavy clothing. The coffee-colored carpet and the black-and-blue patterned bedspreads were in urgent need of a proper cleaning, but although the sheets and towels were threadbare, they were clean. Marcelo scuttled into the bathroom and peed at length in a corner, to Lucia’s amusement and Richard’s horror.
“What do we do now?” asked Richard.
“I suppose that among all the rations you packed there must be some paper towels. I’ll go and get them, you’ve suffered enough from the cold.”
Even so, a short while later Richard, who had gotten over his fear of catching pneumonia, announced he would set off in search of food. In weather like this there was no way anyone would deliver a pizza, and the motel had no kitchen, only a bar where the snacks consisted of olives and stale potato chips. He imagined that however humble the town was, there had to be a Chinese or Mexican restaurant. They still had some provisions but preferred to keep them for the following day. When Richard returned forty minutes later with Chinese food, and coffee in their two thermoses, he found Lucia and Evelyn watching news about the storm on the television.
“On Friday the lowest temperatures since 1869 were registered in New York State. The blizzard lasted almost three hours, but the snow is going to continue for the next few days. The storm has caused millions of dollars’ worth of damage, and it has a name: Jonas,” Lucia told him.
“It’ll be worse up at the lake. The farther north, the colder it gets,” said Richard, removing his coat, vest, scarf, cap, balaclava, and gloves.
He spotted a tiny fly on his undershirt, but when he went to brush it off it jumped and disappeared. “A flea!” he cried, desperately patting himself all over. Lucia and Evelyn barely looked up from the television.
“Fleas! There are fleas in here!” Richard insisted, scratching himself.
“What did you expect for forty-nine dollars and ninety cents, Richard? Anyway, they don’t bite Chileans,” she said.
“Nor Guatemalans,” added Evelyn.
“They bite you because you’re light blooded,” Lucia teased.
The cartons from the Chinese restaurant looked depressing, but the contents were less inedible than they feared and helped restore their spirits, even though they contained so much salt that any other taste was obliterated. Even the Chihuahua, who was very picky because he had trouble chewing, wanted to try the chow mein. Richard went on scratching for a while until he grew resigned to the fleas; he preferred not to even think about the cockroaches that would crawl out of the corners as soon as they switched off the lights. He felt sheltered and safe in this sad motel, linked to the two women in their adventure, feeling his way toward friendship and moved at finding himself so close to Lucia. He was so unfamiliar with this peaceful sense of happiness he did not even recognize it.
Lucia had asked for something she could add to her and Evelyn’s coffee, and he had bought a bottle of Mendez tequila, which was all he could find in the hotel bar. For the first time in years he felt the desire for a drink, more out of companionship than necessity, but he rejected the idea. Experience had taught him to be very careful with alcohol: he would start just wetting his lips and end up falling back headfirst into addiction. It would be impossible to sleep; it was still very early, despite being completely dark outside.
Since they could not agree on what to watch on TV, and the only thing they had forgotten to pack was something to read, they ended up continuing to tell each other their life stories, as they had done the previous night, although this time without the magic brownie, but with the same ease and sense of trust. Richard wanted to know about Lucia’s failed marriage, because he had known her husband, Carlos Urzua, in the academic world. Although he admired Carlos, he did not tell her so, imagining he was probably not so admirable on a personal level.
Lucia
Chile, 1990–2007
During the twenty years of her marriage, Lucia Maraz would have wagered her husband was faithful to her simply because she thought he was too busy to plan the necessary subterfuges for hidden affairs. In this as in so many other things, time was to prove her wrong. She was proud of having given him a stable home and an exceptional daughter. His participation in that particular project was unintentional at the start and casual later on, not because he was wicked but through weakness of character, as Daniela insisted when she was of an age to judge her parents without condemning them. From the outset, Lucia’s role was to love him, and his was to let himself be loved.